


Like Real People Do

by coloursflyaway



Series: Kingsman Tumblr Prompts [7]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: 5+1 Things, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, Kissing, M/M, Misunderstandings, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2018-04-25 11:24:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4958761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coloursflyaway/pseuds/coloursflyaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Eggsy called Harry a pet name, and one time Harry called Eggsy one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Real People Do

**Author's Note:**

> [Schnattergans](http://schnattergans.tumblr.com/) asked for Hartwin and pet names, so here we are!

(1)

“Well, c’mon then, hot stuff”, Eggsy mumbles and helps Harry up from the floor, cursing himself for slacking off at the gym lately. Even if Harry is all muscles and broad shoulders and concealed strength, he is heavy; all those muscles help little when the older man has been drugged with some toxin Eggsy can’t even pronounce the name of.  
Harry’s hand is only loosely grasping his own, and the feeling of those long, strong fingers having been made so weak, so uselessly slow, is making him furious. If he could, he’d gladly kill the man who shot Harry with that dart again, because once doesn’t seem like enough.

Slinging his arm around Harry’s waist, Eggsy does his best to steady the other – they don’t have it far, just have to make it outside, so the extraction team Merlin ordered to come here can get them back to HQ. Can get Harry to a hospital.   
Slowly, with Eggsy’s help, Harry drapes his arm across his shoulders, and Eggsy takes a step, then another, and then Harry asks, “Hot stuff?”

It takes a moment until Eggsy realises that Harry is speaking, and another one until his brain has registered what the older man is saying. The tips of his ears start to tingle hotly, and really, six months of spy training are the only thing which keep Eggsy from flushing from head to toe.   
Of course Harry would be just conscious enough to pick up on that slip of tongue.  
He’s about to tell Harry to shove it, hoping that maybe the older man will have forget about it once he has gotten him to the ambulance, when he notices that Harry’s lips are slightly curved; a gentle smile, more amused than teasing.   
Eggsy is smiling back before he knows it.

“Well yeah”, he answers, takes another step and maybe pulls Harry a little bit closer. “Has no one ever told ya that this suit really brings out ya eyes?”  
The only answer he gets is laughter.

 

(2)

Eggsy hands Harry the cup of water the nurse left there and sighs. “Y’know, ya really need to stop getting shot. ‘M starting to think ya like it.”  
Harry is sitting on yet another hospital bed, his chest bandaged and his left cheek marred with a deep cut; it is getting ridiculous how often he has to visit the other in the medical ward.   
“You found me out. Nothing better than a bullet to the shoulder to start the day”, Harry responds dryly, not caring when Eggsy rolls his eyes to show him just how daft he is behaving.

“This is the fourth time, though, Harry. And I only mean this year. I see ya more often in ‘ere than outside.” Eggsy might be exaggerating a little bit, but not by far – with Harry’s paperwork and his own missions, they don’t see each other even half as often as Eggsy would like.  
“It's only the third time, the mission to Madrid was in December and therefore doesn’t count.”  
“But ya only got released in January”, Eggsy counters, picks up the pills Harry should have taken half an hour ago, holds them out for the other. “And now be a good boy and take ya medicine.”

“Good boy?”, Harry looks at him a little incredulously, the brow above his good eye raised high. “I am old enough to be your father.”  
“Believe me, I’m very aware of that”, Eggsy answers, shakes his hand a little in front of Harry. Just how he is aware of that fact and all its consequences, Harry doesn’t have to, shouldn’t know. “Now be a luv and take ya pills. I don’t wanna have to have to take advantage of ya weakness and force ‘em down ya throat.”  
“As if you could do that.” Truth be told, Eggsy doesn’t know if he would manage, even if Harry can’t use one of his arms, but he doesn’t really want to test it. And it appears that the older man doesn’t feel like insisting on it either, since he reaches out and takes the three little pills, pops them into his mouth.

“Happy now?”, Harry asks and Eggsy nods, reaches out without thinking, squeezes the older man’s arm. Even through the thin fabric of Harry’s pyjamas, Eggsy can feel the heat of his bosy.   
“Very. Now the only thing ya could do to make happier would be not getting shot, or hurt somehow in, let’s say, four months. Think ya could do that?”  
“Don’t push it, Eggsy”, Harry answers, settles back against the pillows. “How about two?”

 

(3)

 

“There you are”, Eggsy mutters as he slides onto the chair next to Harry, relishing in the fact that, at least for tonight, he has an excuse to touch Harry. They are playing a couple to blend in more easily at a charity event, since while it’s just a simple retcon mission, it is the 14th of February and a couple, even one as mismatched as they are, will draw less attention on Valentine’s Day than two gentlemen all alone.   
And while this is nothing special for a Kingsman, it definitely is special for Eggsy.   
Going on missions with Harry is always a treat but going on a mission on which he is allowed to flit around Harry, touch and tease and even kiss him, that’s like Christmas has come early.

“I’ve been looking for you”, he tells Harry in his very best posh accent, because he is supposed to be another one of those rich bastards, a young businessman, who happens to be shagging one of his father’s partners. Sometimes, Eggsy wonders if the people at Kingsman know just how much some of their cover stories sound like the beginnings of porn movies. “Leaving me all alone down there. You know how easily I get lonely, Edward.”

There is a hint of amusement in Harry’s eyes when he looks over at him, the kind which makes Eggsy wonder if maybe, he isn’t the only one who enjoys this a little too much, even if for different reasons. He always thought that Harry was less suited to be Arthur than a field agent.   
“I’m terribly sorry. I’m afraid I forgot the time a little”, Harry replies with an apologetic smile, puts a hand on his thigh for a moment, a hot, burning touch, possessive and yet discreet enough to be fitting for a distinguished businessman.

Maybe too discreet, because before Eggsy has even been able to steal a sip of Harry’s drink, a soft, high voice chirps, “Oh, Mr. Archer, what an _absolute_ pleasure to see you!”  
It belongs to a woman in her thirties, with dark-dyed hair and diamonds around her neck that sparkle just a little bit too much to be real. She sits down on Harry’s other side, pressing in between him and another gentleman, giving Harry a bright, lipstick-stained smile. “I’m delighted that you were able to come. I was _so_ looking forward to finally meeting you in person.”  
Harry looks just as confused as Eggsy feels, because really, it should be obvious that Harry – Edward – is taken.

Part of why he leans over is misplaced jealousy – the biggest part, Eggsy readily admits that to himself – but he ignores that, drapes an arm around Harry’s neck anyway, pulling him a little closer. “Oh babe, I don’t think you mentioned you had a… friend here.”  
He gives the woman a bright, obviously insincere smile, and the hand on his thigh tightens, even if Eggsy doesn’t know if in warning or as praise. Whatever it is, though, Eggsy doesn’t intend to let it stop him.  
Holding out his hand, he waits until the woman has taken it, then warbles, “I’m Matthew, Edward’s partner… in every sense of the word.”  
Again, Harry squeezes his thigh, but this time, Eggsy is fairly certain that he means it in an encouraging way, since he can see the amusement in Harry’s eyes when he turns to face the other, pretending to look at him lovingly, which doesn’t take much pretending at all.   
“Oh, I didn’t- “, she starts, something between mortified and disappointed, and well, Eggsy understands it all too well. He’d be feeling the exact same things in her position. “I’m very pleased to meet you too, Matthew, of course.”

Eggsy lets go of her hand and sends her a sharp smile, replies, “As am I.”

 

(4)

Roxy offers him another cup of eggnog and Eggsy takes it, although he is pretty damn sure that it’s the wrong choice. It’s the day after Christmas and they are having a small celebration in the shop, everything decorated with red and gold and green, a small Christmas tree standing in the middle of the room and half the agents wearing Santa hats. Including, of course, Eggsy and Roxy, excluding, of course, Merlin and Harry.   
“Thanks, ya the best, Rox”, he tells her with a too-wide smile, takes a sip right away, careful so he won’t spill any of the eggnog down his shirt. There is no reason to look at drunk as he is.

“Did you know there is a mistletoe under the kitchen door?”, Roxy asks, swaying slightly, her eyes wide and a little glazed, but obviously very excited at her discovery. She looks, sounds happy, and for Eggsy, that is everything.   
“No, d’ya want a kiss?”, he answers with a grin and a wink, which would have worked so much better without the last two cups of eggnog, and Roxy laughs brightly, head tilted back and her lipstick smugdged.  
“Why not? Haven’t been kissed in faaaar too long.”  
“Same”, Eggsy admits, slings an arm around Roxy’s shoulders and pulls her closer. “Let’s get ya kissed then!”

They make their way to the kitchen, giggling and stumbling, clutching at each other; when they arrive, though, the doorway, and with it, the mistletoe are blocked by a suit-clad body with broad shoulders and a slim waist.   
“Aw, damn”, Eggsy pouts, but Roxy just looks at him for a moment, then leans in, almost conspiratorially.  
“Two choices”, she whispers, counts them on the fingers of her hand. “First, you kiss me here, without the mistletoe. Second, you go over there and kiss Harry under it.”

“What? No. I can’t.” Eggsy shakes his head, trying to keep himself from finding the idea too appealing. “Can I?”  
“Well, it’s a mistletoe. It’s tradition. Right? So it’d be the perfect excuse and you’d still get a kiss.” Roxy looks over at Harry, who is talking to Bors, almost wistfully. “To be honest, if you don’t do it, I might. He looks like a good kisser.”  
He tries too, but Eggsy can’t stop himself from thinking that what Roxy is saying makes sense – he could play it off as a joke, and he can’t deny that he has missed the feeling of Harry’s lips against him ever since they finished that retcon mission so many months ago. And even then, Eggsy had only managed to get two little kisses, instead of the several, deep ones he had been hoping for.   
So this might be his chance to make up for it.

“Ya right”, Eggsy answers after a few seconds of contemplation, determination growing with every second. This is the perfect plan. “Let’s do this.”  
Roxy grins brightly and Eggsy smiles back, then, without wasting more time, walks over to the two older men, taps Harry on the shoulder to get his attention when the other fails to notice him.   
Harry turns around, a small smile appearing on his lips when he sees Eggsy, and God, he looks as handsome as always, cheeks flushed just a little from the eggnog, the warmth.  
“Oh hello, Eggsy-“, he starts, but Eggsy doesn’t let him finish, afraid that every passing second will weaken his resolve.   
Instead, he reaches up with both hands and grips the older man’s lapels, mutters, to make sure that Harry knows this is a joke, nothing more, “C’mere then, babycakes.”  
And pulls Harry down.

Their lips meet somewhere in the middle, Harry’s parted in surprise and Eggsy’s sweet with eggnog; he doesn’t waste any time before he licks into the other’s mouth, losing himself in the feeling for a few, precious, blissful seconds.   
It’s perfect.

 

(5)

Eggsy wakes up with his mouth parched and his head feeling like it was being gripped in a vice and repeatedly hit with a very large hammer. It takes a few moments until he can figure out where he is – the bed is bigger than the one he has at home, the sheets far too silky and far, far too beige – and the second he knows, he wishes desperately he could go back to blissful ignorance.   
Because he’s in Harry’s guestroom and that brings back more memories than he wanted to ever regain; memories of kissing and of being pushed away, albeit gently, of Harry’s eyes being widened in shock and not quite losing the look when Eggsy had explained the thing about the mistletoe, memories of even more eggnog and mourning the fact that he had just ruined his friendship with Harry forever with Roxy at his side.

None of that explains how he ended up here, but truth be told, Eggsy isn’t sure if he wants to know that either. So instead of getting up, he allows himself to wallow in his misery for another few minutes before he drags himself out of the bed, driven by thirst and the rather acute need of aspirin.   
As quickly as possible, Eggsy washes up, gulps down a few cups of water, but ignoring his mussed hair for now, the bags under his eyes. They don’t seem important.

Taking the first step outside of the room takes even more guts than most his missions, the slight beginnings of panic only growing worse when there is no soft music playing from downstairs, no bacon sizzling and no smell of coffee heavy in the air like it usually is when he stays over.   
Which either means Harry isn’t up yet or that Eggsy fucked up even worse than he thought. Maybe there is more he doesn’t remember?

“Harry?”, he calls out, voice hoarse and small, scared even to his own ears. There is no answer, so Eggsy pads over to the older man’s bedroom on socked feet, knocking gently.   
Again, no response comes, not even a groan, an insult, so after several minutes of nervously waiting, Eggsy takes a deep breath to steel himself for whatever is going to happen, pushes the door open.  
Only to find nothing at all.   
Harrys bed is made, the curtains opened to let the cold sunlight in, but the other man is nowhere to be seen. Maybe it’s a good thing, since it at least means that Harry didn’t ignore him, but there is no relief, only more dread filtering in slowly. The only thing he had wanted was a proper kiss, so he could replay the memory when he couldn’t sleep, his whole body aching for the other’s touch, but never at this price.   
Nothing could be worth losing Harry’s easy companionship, his warm eyes and teasing smiles, his dry sense of humour and his inability to admit that killing and mounting insects was not the right hobby for a child.

Eventually, he finds Harry in the kitchen. He doesn’t look up right away, seems to be lost in thought, and Eggsy doesn’t know what makes him say it, but his lips part, greet the older man with, “Mornin’ sweets.”  
The only thing he wants is to see Harry smile, like he used to when Eggsy called him some dumb nickname, but it doesn’t work; this time, Harry turns around slowly, almost wearily. He looks ten years older and Eggsy’s heart clenches painfully in his chest.

“Eggsy”, he greets back, but his voice sounds even more tired than his eyes look, resigned when he adds, “Sit down. We need to… talk.”  
Of course they do, and yet, there is nothing Eggsy would rather forget about for now and forever, because he can picture how this talk will end. With a cold, polite refusal and stilted silence, that will lead to a most professional relationship, which will lack every hint of the past warmth. And all that, because Eggsy can’t control himself.

Still, he does as he was told to, sits down opposite of Harry, only now noticing the glass of water and the painkillers beside it. Without looking at Harry, he gulps them down, sets down he glass a little too loudly, making himself wince. It’d be touching that the other is still looking out for him like this, if Eggsy wasn’t so scared of what is still to come.  
“If it’s ‘bout yesterday night-“, he starts, but Harry doesn’t let him finish, just holds up his hand to make him stop. The words die in Eggsy’s mouth.

“It’s not just about that”, Harry starts, and Eggsy’s heart freezes, mid-beat, because, oh God, this is even worse. “It’s about…everything. I thought that if I ignored it, played along, maybe, it would stop mattering. That I’d somehow get immune, I suppose, but it didn’t work.”  
There is a pause, and Eggsy wants to use it to say something, but can’t think of anything, doesn’t know what would make it better, what would make it worse, what it is Harry is talking about exactly.  
“You see”, the other finally continues, before Eggsy has even been able to think of one single word. “I am well aware that it is only a game to you. A joke, between friends, and that would be more than alright if it was, but the thing is… I’m trying, Eggsy, but even I can’t resist forever.”

Harry gives him a wan smile, self-depreciating and absolutely painful to watch. “I know you don’t mean to hurt, but every little flirtation, every of those terms of endearment you seem to have grown so fond of using, it all reminds me that I won’t ever have you like that, and that- Let’s just say that I would very much appreciate it if you could stop using them. And let an old fool love in peace.”

It seems all that Harry wants to say and yet can’t be just that, because none of it makes sense, at least not to Eggsy.   
“What?”, he asks, less eloquently than ever and yet unable to say anything more, thoughts rushing through his mind too quickly for even Eggsy to listen to one of them.  
The look Harry gives him is one Eggsy has seen before, just last night; shock mixed with a hint of what could be fear, but also could be pity.   
“Do you mean- Are you trying to say that you did not know?”, Harry asks, pronouncing every word with almost painful care, as if he couldn’t possibly bear the thought of having to repeat them.   
“Didn’t know what?”  
“Oh.” Harry laughs softly, but it sounds the same as his smile looked before, more like he is laughing at himself, at his own stupidity. “That changes everything.”

“What?” Eggsy knows he is repeating himself, and yet can’t help it; he still has no idea what it is the other is saying, what seems to break his unbreakable mentor so easily.   
“I thought you knew how gone I am for you.”  
Harry says it in almost the same voice he uses for debriefs, matter of fact, just a hint of the same self-depreciation clinging to his voice. He says it like he is stating something about the weather, lecturing Eggsy about the range of a Springfield Armory M6 Scout, and for a few moments, Eggsy lets himself be fooled.

He’s about to ask just what it is Harry is saying again when the words finally filter in, starting to make sense. The half formed question dies on his tongue, along with what feels like his entire brain, making it impossibly difficult to even part his lips, let alone force them to move, to form words.   
Harry waits patiently, even if he looks like he is staring down the barrel of a gun.   
“You’re right”, Eggsy finally manages to force out, even if his tongue and lips still feel strangely numb. His chest is too tight, and Eggsy thinks what he is feeling must be the beginnings of pure bliss, the kind of happiness you see in movies but never get to experience. “I didn’t know, Jesus, Harry, I really didn’t, because if I had, I would’ve told ya that I’m fuckin’ gone for ya too.”

 

(+1)

There is a hint of stubble rasping against Eggsy’s cheek when their lips slide against each other’s, Harry’s far softer than Eggsy would have ever thought, his kisses just as passionate.   
One of Harry’s hands is on Eggsy’s waist, the other one angling his head back, fingertips varying between gently pressing into his skin and stroking it, and Eggsy has almost forgotten about the edge of the table digging into his hip, because ever so often, Harry nips on his bottom lip in a way that takes his breath away.

It’s not the first kiss they share, more something along the lines of fifth or sixth, and it won’t be the last, yet Eggsy can’t help but whine softly when Harry pulls away. There is a chuckle, breathless and just as happy as Eggsy feels, and then teeth graze over his jaw, followed by a few, scattered kisses.   
“Oh, darling”, Harry mutters, breath fanning out over Eggsy’s skin, making it difficult not to shiver. “My dear boy, if I had just known, I would have had you on every flat surface in this house already.”

It’s the things Eggsy least expected to hear, makes him laugh brightly, tighten his grip on Harry’s forearm. “Every of them?”  
Harry gives his jaw one last nip, then pulls back to look at Eggsy, his brown eyes dark and yet sparkling with mirth. His lips are kissed pink and just slightly swollen, his hair even more of a mess, because Eggsy had taken the opportunity to slide his hands into it; he doesn’t look like the Harry Hart Eggsy met all those months ago, and it’s glorious.  
“Absolutely. At least once, preferably several times.”  
“Well then”, Eggsy responds, shoots Harry a smile, while he pushes one thigh in between the older man’s legs, making him groan. “How ‘bout we make up for lost time, then?”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> In case you want to say hi, send me a prompt, or tell me something nice, you can find me on Tumblr here:  
> [X](http://www.coloursflyaway.tumblr.com)


End file.
